Wounds of Love
by Cameron Mica Boyce
Summary: A beautiful story of a broken blind boy struggling through high school and his disability who changes a famous teen actor's life. "He was born lucky. I was lucky to be born."
1. Chapter 1

He was born lucky.  
I was lucky to be born.

 **Cameron's POV**

I sat up in bed and yawned. I glanced over at my alarm clock and it was 6:30. Call me sleepy, but something wasn't right. I got out of bed and took a shower. God, I hate Mondays.

When I made it down to the kitchen 30 minutes later, I was positive that something was wrong. The kitchen was empty. I scratched the back of my head. My little sister Maya should be waiting eating breakfast and rushing to catch her bus right now. Then it hit me like a truck.  
It was the first day of summer. I could be sleeping right now.

I trudged up the stairs and dropped my backpack by my bedroom door. Without bothering to undress, I curled up under my comforter and closed my eyes.

Suddenly, my phone beeped. What kind of inconsiderate person would text someone else at 7 am on the first day of summer? I groaned and grabbed my phone. It was my best friend, Trent. Figures. No one is less considerate than he. The message read, "Any plans for today?" I texted back one word:

"Sleep." I promptly went to sleep.

In what seemed less than five minutes, the doorbell began ringing incessantly. I came down stairs in my boxers. I must have undressed while I was half asleep and forgotten about it. I opened the door to find Trent with a basketball under his arm. "Dude!" he shouted for all of Los Angeles to hear. "A little warning before you force me to see that!" He waved his hands at me. I stared at him in disbelief. Not only was he barging into my house while any sensible person would be sleeping, but he just accused ME of not giving HIM a head's up.

Trent had moved past my choice of clothing. "Hurry up, I told the guys we would be at the park in ten," he informed me. "I'm not going," I told him.

"But you said you weren't doing anything!" he whined.

"I said I was sleeping!" I shot back.

"I read between the lines."

"What!" I shrieked. "It was a one word text!"

"Oh, just hurry up and get dressed. We leave in five," he told me as if he was my mother.

Ugh… why does he always win this kind of argument? I am clearly the more sensible of the two of us, yet he always gets his way, and his way always gets me in trouble. "Fine," I mumbled and headed back upstairs to get dressed. Behind me I heard Trent open the refrigerator.

I sighed as Trent made another basket. I had been wondering why the other guys were awake right now. As it turns out, by 'the guys,' Trent meant his grandfather and his great-uncle. The score was 76 to 0, and we had only been playing for about half an hour.

Trent's great-uncle hobbled to the bench. "I've had enough," he said. "You kids sure know how to put it in the hole." I am going to pretend I never heard that.

"Well, Roger and I are gonna go to the beach to see what fine specimens of women are out there today." Trent's grandfather told us. Again, I am going to try to forget that. I mean seriously, not only are they like 80, but they're both married! Considering Trent's family, I guess I should just be thankful he turned out so normal.

"Later, bro and brah!" he yelled after his two relatives. What did that even mean!?

Trent and I walked over to the bench. He produced a giant bucket of fried chicken from his sports duffel. Normally I would question this, but I was hungry. Within ten minutes, the two of us had consumed the entire bucket. I walked a little ways to the trash can to throw away the bones, and as I turned around something caught my eye.

It was a boy. He looked about my age, maybe a year younger. I noticed him because he was staring at me. It was creepy. To make things creepier, he had blood running down his left arm, and it looked like it had dried. He was just sitting against a tree, watching me. I decided to brush it off. He probably just fell and scraped his elbow. Without a second thought, I walked back to where Trent was impatiently waiting for me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chandler's POV**

I had better start at the beginning. My name is Chandler Scott. I was born in Dallas, Texas. My life was fairly good at first. I was born to a conservative Catholic family, and we never really had much, but what we did have we shared. My parents were controlling and over protective, so I really had no idea what the real world was like until the sixth grade. Since my parents had just given birth to their sixth child, they couldn't homeschool me anymore.

On my first day of school I met a boy. His name was Shawn. He was wearing a pink shirt, black basketball shorts, and bright red Nikes. Shawn had established himself as a person quite well even then. He had a medium sized, very popular group of friends and several best friends. He played basketball.

In case you're wondering, he was and still is as straight as anyone can be.

I became obsessed with him. Having grown up around my family only, I didn't know how to make friends. Frankly, I didn't mind; I was too shy to start conversations, and I was used to being lonely. But something about Shawn and the way he moved caused me to want to talk to him more than anything. I was crushing on him.

Keep in mind, my family is Catholic. They had never told me anything about anything unless it regarded our faith. As a result, I had no idea what it meant to be gay. I didn't realize it was even possible for a boy to have a crush on a boy.  
And yet, there I was, crushing on a boy.

Shawn was in my science class, and one day the teacher gave us assigned seats because our class was too obnoxious. Before I knew what was going on, I was sitting inches away from Shawn. He ended up liking me, and talked to me all the time. It actually got pretty annoying, but it was also great. Being naïve, I told my parents about my only friend. I came to them, excited to tell them that I was happy.

They knew what it meant to be gay. My dad beat me until I had a broken arm, two black eyes, and belt marks everywhere. Then, in order to 'correct' me, he sent me to an all-boys boarding school in hopes of me starting to act like a man.

In the middle of 7th grade, my roommate, who is three years older than me, began to force me to give him blowjobs. I was twelve years old. This went on through most of 8th grade. I didn't know what to do, so I did something drastic and stupid. I attempted suicide. I overdosed on Aspirin.

The doctors found out what had been going between my roommate and me, and he is now in jail. But the damage was done. I spent the next three months in a mental hospital where I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Schizophrenia, Multiple Personality Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, and clinical depression. But eventually, they let me out.

Because the private boarding had obviously been a mistake, my parents decided to send me back to the middle school where I met Shawn. Seeing him reminded me of how much I liked him, and my feelings only grew. I joined the basketball team and hung out with Shawn. I was happy. So naturally, I had to ruin it.

By now I had started high school. I told Shawn everything. And he couldn't have cared less. He decided it would be a good idea to tell everyone. I was terribly sad and I began cutting myself. One thing lead to another, and I found myself in the hospital once again, having drunk furniture polish. Two months later, I was back at the mental hospital. When they finally let me out, my freshman year was nearly over. My dad had lost his job and became depressed. He took his anger and frustration out on me, beating me daily. I had had enough. I confronted him and told him I was leaving. Of course, he tried to stop me, but I threatened to call Child Protective Services. I ran away. That was the last I saw of my family. I haven't seen Shawn since my second suicide attempt. The last thing he said to me was, "Faggots like you should never have been born."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chandler's POV**

First things first, I'm not stupid. I didn't run away with no money and nowhere to go. Well, I didn't have anywhere to go, but I had a vague idea. I wanted to go to California. My reasons aren't that great. California is supposed to be a beautiful state. Besides, it was far from Texas, and that was my main priority.

Needless to say, I took money. My escape was perfectly planned. The day before I ran away, I broke into my dad's safe and cleaned it out. He is a lawyer, and he doesn't believe in banks. Ideally, I would have flown, but I'm too young to buy a plane ticket. So instead, I took a train. It was actually a really fun experience. I had one bag of clothes with me.

I got off the train in downtown LA. I hadn't planned for this; once I got to LA, I had figured that what would happen would happen, and it was going to be good.

I walked in a random direction, and an hour later, I found myself at a public park. I sat down beneath a giant oak tree and closed my eyes. The sun was shining, but a slight breeze kept me cool. I could not have been more comfortable.

The sound of someone crying woke me up. I looked over to see a small child on the ground. Her mother was cleaning the scrape on her knee, singing softly to her daughter as she worked. It was honestly beautiful, and it made me think of my mother. Not too long ago, this could have been me. Suddenly, a realization hit me. I was alone.

I began to silently cry. What kind of a world was so cruel as to chew up an innocent child and spit them out abused, raped, broken, and alone?

I took a steak knife out of my bag. It may sound bad, but when I cut myself, I stop thinking about my other problems. I truly believed that it helped me. I took the knife to my arm and pressed down. Then, I slowly began to slide the cold steel through my skin. I did this twelve times on the same spot, creating one deep cut. When I returned the knife my bag, my hand was shaking.

I spent the rest of the day at the park. I bought a hot dog from a vendor for my dinner. After I had eaten, I curled up into a ball under what I was beginning to think of as my tree and went to sleep.

As I hope you know, whenever one sleeps outdoors, one wakes up early. So I found myself heading to Starbucks before the sun had risen. And since it was summertime, the sun rose early. I walked into Starbucks and put a twenty on the counter, asking for an iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream. The cashier gave my arm a funny look, and I followed her eyes to see dried blood. I had forgotten about.

When I returned to the park I was feeling sad. I missed Shawn. I took out a piece of paper and began to write. This is the final product.

"I love you more than you'll ever know.  
I'll follow you wherever you go.  
The love I feel when I look into your eyes  
Is far too strong for me to deny.  
I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can do.  
For all eternity, I will love you.  
But I know you will never be mine,  
Although, to be honest, that's perfectly fine  
Because I could never make you as happy as you deserve to be,  
So I leave you alone, despite the pain that causes me.  
And I pray for your soul. I pray for you to be strong.  
And I pray to stop loving you because it feels so wrong."

I sighed. I really missed him, even though he treated me even worse than I deserve, which is an accomplishment because I don't deserve a lot. I put the paper in my bag with tears starting to form in my eyes. I closed my eyes, sipped my coffee, and enjoyed the beautiful weather.

My contentedness was shattered by the sound of a basketball bouncing. Why was someone here so early? I looked over to the basketball court where two ancient men were balling. Weird. I finished my coffee and threw away the cup.

From where I was sitting, I could see the basketball court, but anyone on the court could not see me unless they came down the hill. As I watched, two boys about my age (maybe a little older) walked over to the court. The first one was skipping and had a basketball under his arm and a sports duffel over his shoulder. He was kind of cute, but was also a little thin.

The second boy made my jaw drop. He was stumbling along as if half asleep, and he looked like he really didn't want to be here. He had a lot of freckles and chocolate eyes that made my chest hurt. He and his friend made their way over to the two old men.

"WHAT IS UP, MY HOMIES?" The first kid screamed at the top of his lungs. He did super complicated handshake with the two older men.

The four guys started playing two on two. The two old men tried really hard, but they failed miserably. It was really funny and adorable at the same time.

Eventually the two older men hobbled off. The boys my age made their way to the bench where the first one got out… fried chicken? A few minutes later, the freckled boy came down the hill to throw away the box. My eyes were glued to him. He was even more attractive up close.  
He suddenly turned and saw me watching him. There was eye contact. I swear my heart stopped.

As if making a decision, he turned and walked away. He and his friend packed up their equipment and headed off. I sighed. If I only deserved to at least talk to him.

 **Just so you know, I wrote that poem about my crush. So yeah. Since I have no social life I can update often.**


End file.
